


Turning Brass

by blakefancier



Series: Parent Howard series [2]
Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is sick and Howard has to watch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Brass

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the teen!Steve universe.

"Do something with him!" Maria said, shoving the wailing toddler into his arms. Her hair was in disarray, there were bags under her eyes, and it was obvious she was at the end of her rope.

Do something with him? Howard looked at the sobbing mess of a boy in his arms and fuck what was *he* supposed to do? And where the hell was the nanny? What was the use of hiring someone if they weren’t going to be there when they were needed?

Howard gently bounced Tony and patted his back. Tony buried his face against Howard's chest, sobbing pitifully, and Howard winced. God, he'd have to burn the shirt now. 

"Easy does it, buddy. I know, I know, you don't feel very good." Maybe they should call the doctor again. This couldn't be good for Tony. This couldn't be good for any of them. 

"Da," Tony said and rubbed his face against Howard's shirt.

"Oh, damn it, Tony, that's gross." He patted Tony's back a little harder; didn’t the doctor say it would help clear his lungs? 

God, why was parenthood so disgusting? And why was he dealing with this shit? He wasn’t the one who'd been clamoring for a kid. He wasn't the one who decided to screw the plan and get pregnant. And no, he didn't fucking believe it was an accident. 

"I ought to divorce your mom for extreme emotional abuse. Don't puke on me, Tony. Don't—" He groaned. "I could be building weapons right now. I could be with my boyfriend right now. Well, newest fuck buddy anyway."

Tony's only response to that was blowing a snot bubble. Which, what did Howard fucking expect from a kid who was only fifteen months old. 

He got them both cleaned up, then settled into a rocking chair. He hated this shit, he did, because Tony kept looking at him like he should be able to make everything better and he *couldn't.* He didn't know how and it made him feel like a failure. 

So he just kept wiping Tony's red little nose and singing softly (Tony was partial to Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath), hoping that Maria would get her goddamn act together and come back.

She didn't, of course, and Tony was just getting worse and maybe he should call the doctor again. Anything to stop the crying; Tony was breaking his heart. Then, oh, he remembered something his own nanny used to do when he was sick. He took Tony to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower, as hot as it could get, and let the steam fill up the room. 

"Almost as good as a sauna," he whispered softly.

Tony snuffled, his eyelids drooping as his sinuses cleared. When Tony fell asleep, Howard put him in his crib and watched him sleep. He didn’t look up until the door to the nursery opened.

"You're back," he said and stepped away from the crib.

"Yes. Thank you for watching him. I just… I needed some time away." Maria walked over and stroked Tony's cheek.

"I'm going out." He needed a drink. Maybe he'd call Peter, see if he was free for the night.

She looked up at him and frowned. "Now? With Tony sick?"

"I did my due diligence." 

"Your—He's your son, Howard!" Maria raised her voice and Tony whimpered softly.

There were so many things he could say to that. So many things he wanted to say, all of them true and all of them hurtful. It was funny how two years did nothing to lessen his anger.

In the end, he just looked at her until she turned away.

"Fine," she said, sounding tired. "Will you come home tonight, at least?"

"Sure." He looked down at Tony again, stroked his fingers through the boy's sweat-soaked hair. "Sleep well, buddy. I'll see you in the morning." 

He was almost out the door when Maria called his name; he didn’t turn to look at her, but he did stop. 

"I love you," she said.

He swallowed back the immediate response. "Page me if he gets worse."

She didn't respond and he didn't look back.


End file.
